


In the Western Night

by dogpoet



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-23
Updated: 2003-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex gets a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Western Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [西方夜谭](https://archiveofourown.org/works/440739) by [cindyfxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindyfxx/pseuds/cindyfxx), [dogpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet)



> No archive warnings, but, uh, please note the necrophilia tag. This does, however, have a happy ending. I promise.

Wind blew through the broken windows of the old foundry and carried the smoke away with it. Lex stood in the ruins of the explosion feeling like he might collapse in the rubble at any moment. In the dark, it was difficult to see, and he stumbled, feet catching on crumbled bricks and scraps of torn metal. He was looking for something.

***

There was a quietness in the house. No air moved. Lex padded down the hall from his room. Something was wrong. He had woken from a dream, a bad dream in which he had felt so lost, so empty. Like he was the last person in the world. He'd woken and cried out. But no one had come. He wanted to find her. He needed her. As he approached the door to her bedroom, there was a sudden flurry of activity. His father stormed out, not noticing Lex. "Just--just get rid of her. I can't have this in my house!" he shouted to someone inside. Then he disappeared down the corridor.

Tentatively, Lex peered into the bedroom. His mother's still body lay on the large bed, her red hair spread on the pillow. It was wrong. She was dead, he knew instantly. One of the servants spied him and bustled forward. She tried to herd him out of the room, but he resisted. "Back to your room, Lex," she ordered.

"No!" He flung himself into the room and threw himself at the bed. Hands grabbed at his arms and tried to wrench him away. He couldn't breathe, and an inhuman scream he didn't recognize as his own burst forth from his lungs. The hands let go of him. He could hear voices conversing in the background, dim and incoherent. They soon disappeared and he was alone in the room. He climbed up on the bed and lay beside his mother. Her cheek was still warm, but she wasn't there.

***

He was looking for someone. Ashes rained down on him and fires smoldered on the concrete floor. The meteors glowed faintly, green against the embers of wood and coal. He was looking for someone.

As he headed toward the west side of the building--west toward death, he thought--Lex found what he was seeking. His eyes had gotten used to the darkness and he could see that the body was no longer alive. He knelt in the debris, chips of metal digging into his knees, and placed his hand on Clark's cheek. Still warm, but cooling. There was no breath, no life. Silently, Lex lay beside Clark and put his arm around the body protectively. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

They hadn't always been enemies. Lex wasn't sure when the change had taken place, what caused it, what made it irreparable. What causes wars, Lex wondered. The vantage point of history gives us nothing. No answers, really. A sequence of events set in motion by forces we can't understand. How did Hitler rise to power? How did the whole world become part of the battle?

As morning came, light filtered through the remnants of the walls. Lex regained his senses slowly. He became aware of the smells first. Smoke. Burnt plastic. Even his own sweat. It was quiet. The occasional sound of rubble shifting, settling. Like an avalanche waiting to happen. Lex opened his eyes. They were raw and irritated. His lungs burned. His arm was still around Clark. Not Clark. Superman. The red and blue costume was in shreds and, for the first time in Lex's memory, the skin underneath was bruised and cut.

It didn't matter how they had gotten there. The fact was, they were there. The two of them. Lex felt as if they would be there forever, caught in time, unable to escape. Lex would hate himself forever. Hate what he was, who he'd become. He would stare forever at the beautiful boy who had become a beautiful man. His enemy. Lex ran a hand down Clark's chest.

They had never been lovers.

And now? Lex wanted to see. To finally see. He pulled at the fabric of Clark's costume, his disguise. Only he'd never fooled Lex. Lex had always known. Had always wanted so badly to see inside Clark, to see Clark. The real boy. The real man. The cloth tore easily, revealing Clark's skin. Inch by lovely inch. Hunched over, Lex's body ached, willfully complained, but he ignored it, and stripped away every last scrap of clothing covering Clark's body.

He was beautiful. Beautiful in Lex's imagination. And beautiful here. In spite of the wounds, the blood. It made him more human. Not invulnerable after all. Just like any of us. We all have our Achilles heel, Lex thought, and what was mine? Cold beneath his fingers. He caressed Clark's cheek, then leaned in and kissed lips he'd never kissed before.

What was it, Lex wondered, about death? Death isn't just death. It's tied in knots with sex and life and every human emotion. Death didn't judge. It wouldn't judge him. Death was Lex's friend. His companion. He kissed again. Slid his tongue into a mouth that couldn't respond. He can't even fight back, Lex thought. Is this rape? Is it rape when the person is dead? But no, death gave its consent. It understood Lex. It was lovely and forgiving.

Lex struggled to his feet and unbuttoned his shirt. And then took off everything else. He liked the texture of the cement and the dust beneath his bare feet. He wanted to feel. Wanted to feel alive, amidst all this death. He knelt over Clark's body and touched everywhere. Everything. Owned him. Clark's skin was smooth and cool. Life scared Lex. But death didn't. He traced the contours of Clark's bones. Ran his fingers through his hair. It was so easy now, with no resistance. So beautiful. Clark would never cease to be beautiful. Lex stroked his cock and straddled Clark's legs. Lex took Clark in his mouth, comforted. It was okay. Everything would be okay. Ten years after the day they met, they were parting. Parting and joining on the same day. Lex crawled up Clark's body and began to move. Here, among death and ashes, he felt more alive than he'd ever felt. There was no pain, just forgetting.

***

2 years later:

Gaunt, and paler than usual, Lex strode into the laboratory. He was wasting away, skin flaking, peeling, trying to escape this mortal coil. He knew the rumors, that he had AIDS, that he was dying. But he also knew the truth: that every test had turned up negative. Too cowardly to take his own life, he hoped his body would just give up. But it hadn't. Somehow, it held on, determined. He'd never been afraid of death, but now, it was wrong to die. To leave the world this way. Without setting things right. He understood now. Understood why people fought death: they had things to live for.

One of the scientists, Dr. Hanlon, came forward. "I think we've finally got it, Mr. Luthor." They walked toward the machine set up in the center of the room.

"Have there been any more fatalities?"

"Not since we adjusted the speed of molecular displacement. Of course, like space travel, this will be physically strenuous. But there's really no way of knowing..." Dr. Hanlon handed a report to Lex.

"Did you test the aging factor?"

"I did as you requested."

"Let me know the results. I'll be back tomorrow."

***

The door of the machine slid closed, sealing Lex inside. He sank against the walls of the compartment. His strength was gone. This experiment was the only thing keeping him alive. His body certainly had been giving up incrementally for the last two years. He sighed. There were still so many unanswered questions about how the machine worked. Would there already be a Lex in the past? Or would he displace that Lex? It was impossible to know. A dull whine alerted him that the process had begun. Lex closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, he prayed.

***

His senses awoke slowly. He felt as if he had the world's worst hangover. Maybe he did. Maybe he'd gone back too far, back to the Metropolis clubbing days. He swayed unsteadily. He was standing. And that was a mistake.

A familiar voice: "Lex?"

A small breath escaped him and he felt himself falling. A strong arm caught him, held fast, supported him.

"Lex?" Panic. "Are you okay? You're not okay. Talk to me. Should I call an ambulance?"

Lex groaned and eked out a single syllable: "No." He fought to open his eyes. It was a losing battle. Maybe he was dying. He'd come all this way and he was dying. The thought surged through him and gave him strength. He'd have to say what he had to say now, while he could. "Clark?"

Breathy. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Clark's strong arms held him close. Cradled him.

"For lying to you. I'm so sorry."

"Lex, you're delirious. What happened? We were just talking and you--collapsed."

"I lied to you about Hamilton. I couldn't help it, Clark. I needed to know. I needed to know what happened at the bridge. That day. You saved me."

"Lex..."

Lex found some inner reserve of strength and opened his eyes. Clark was staring at him, eyes wide and full of fear.

"It's okay, Clark. I know. I know I hit you with my car. You can't deny it. But it's okay. You can trust me. I won't ever tell your secret. I promise. Because I care about you and I--"

Now he sounded drunk. And it was more than he'd meant to say.

Myriad expressions crossed Clark's face and Lex hoped he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life. But then he remembered he'd done that already. It couldn't possibly get any worse. That was the nice thing about being at rock bottom.

"How did you..."

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that we're friends. I'll never hurt you. Never," Lex said fiercely, clutching Clark's shirt with a weak fist.

"I'm taking you home. You need some rest."

Lex closed his eyes again and faded away. It was peaceful inside his head. He was aware, just barely, of being put inside the car. And then he gave up all contact with the outside world.

***

Lex felt his life was a series of uncomfortable awakenings. Repeated struggles to face the world. And here he was again. He knew he was in his own bed. Knew without opening his eyes. He moved his arm and felt the soft cotton rub against his skin. He was alive. It was a miracle. How many miracles was one man allowed?

"Lex?"

Lex sighed gratefully. And opened his eyes.

Clark smiled at him. "I thought you'd never wake up. You've been out for hours."

"Have you been here the whole time?"

Clark nodded. "I was worried."

"I'm alive."

"Of course you're alive."

"It's a miracle."

"I wouldn't go that far. Here, have some water." Clark helped Lex sit up and then held the cool glass to his lips. Lex sipped and felt the water slide down his throat. He was alive. He was 21 again. And Clark wasn't his enemy. He pushed the glass away.

"What happened? You were acting so strange. I didn't know what to do."

Lex rested against the pillows and tried to decide how much to tell Clark. He had ended up where he was because he had lied. One lie had turned into another until everything was fiction. He took a deep breath that hurt his lungs.

"Clark, have you ever had a secret that was so unbelievable that you thought you couldn't tell anyone?"

Clark flushed, stammered. "I--I don't know, Lex. I--"

"I have one."

"You do?"

"I'm going to tell you. Because I know I can trust you." He looked into Clark's eyes. There was fear there, and something else Lex couldn't identify.

"Lex. I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't tell me."

"I want to."

"I haven't been honest with you, Lex."

"I know. And I haven't been with you. But I'm going to be from now on." He reached out and took Clark's hand in his. Clark blushed again. "Come here." Lex tugged at Clark's hand and was surprised when Clark didn't hesitate, just climbed up and sat beside him.

"Do you trust me?" Lex asked.

Clark nodded, so close. Their bodies were touching. Lex could feel Clark's heat. It made his heart seize up. He remembered the day at the foundry. He'd done everything he'd never had the courage to do when Clark was alive. And here he was, given a second chance. Life really was amazing. He was maybe starting to believe in God. But God was inside--in the choices you made and how you lived your life. He could take the same path or he could change his destiny. And it had nothing to do with a supreme being. It had to do with him, Alexander Luthor.

Their hands were still joined and Lex ran his thumb across Clark's palm. Clark shivered. And Lex understood something he'd never gotten before. He lifted Clark's hand to his lips and kissed the palm.

"Lex."

Clark's eyes were shining and big. His breathing quick and irregular. And it was Clark who closed the distance, leaned in and kissed Lex's mouth. It had been years since Lex had kissed anyone. He'd forgotten what it felt like. And even when he'd kissed before, it hadn't been like this. Magic and sweetness. Innocence. Clark pulled away. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then their lips were touching again, brushing softly against each other. Lex bit Clark's lip gently, licked at it. Then his tongue was in Clark's mouth, memorizing the shape and feel of his teeth, stroking his upper palate.

"Is this your secret?" Clark breathed.

"It's one of them. Do you want to know the others?"

"Are they as good as this one?"

"No. But I'm going to tell you anyway."

"Lex, there are things I haven't told you about myself."

"Sh. I know all of them, Clark. I know. You don't have to tell me anything." Lex lay back on the pillows and looked up at Clark. He suddenly felt like a child. What was it? Trust? Yes. Everything would be okay.

"How can you know?"

"I killed you."

"What?"

"Nine years from now, in 2011, I kill you. I killed you."

Clark shook his head, disbelieving. "What are you talking about?"

"It's not going to happen again. I promise."

***

Lex never cried. But when the police had come to the foundry, they discovered him in tears. Naked. Clinging to Clark, lying in ashes and dust, skin dented with the shapes of bits of gravel and shards of metal and glass. They'd called him crazy. Lionel had tried to institutionalize him. And the papers had a field day. "Billionaire loses hair, then mind," read one headline. All the money in the world couldn't stop the presses. Lex had borne it all with resignation and quietly retired from public life. A mad eccentric whose body was slowly rotting away, disappearing from the earth.

***

Lex never cried. But as Clark moved above him, as Lex looked upon that beautiful face, he couldn't hold back.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" Clark stopped moving, his brow furrowed.

"No. It feels... I love it. I love you."

Clark smiled and kissed Lex's tears. "I love you too."

Lex pulled Clark closer and kissed him with a ferocity he hadn't felt with anyone else. Clark began to thrust again. Sparks lit up inside Lex. He felt saved. Lex reached between their bodies and stroked his cock. He was close. So--

He came with a shudder. A moment later, Clark collapsed on top of him, breathless, glistening with sweat.

It was so different from the first time. The first time, they had both been dead. Now, the second time, they were both very much alive. More than once, Clark had brought him back from death. He was a lucky man.

Gently, Clark withdrew and curled up next to Lex. Lex took Clark's hand and threaded their fingers together.

"I'm alive," Lex whispered.

"Of course you are," Clark said matter-of-factly. "You're mine."


End file.
